


you are human

by novatony



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Depressed Harry, Dursley Family Bashing (Harry Potter), Ginny Weasley Bashing, Good Draco Malfoy, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, Good Severus Snape, Harry Needs a Hug, Hermione Granger Bashing, M/M, Molly Weasley Bashing, Past Child Abuse, Please Proceed With Caution, Ron Weasley Bashing, Self-Harming Harry Potter, Sporadic Updates, Vernon Dursley Being an Asshole, Work In Progress, please do not read if the last two tags trigger you, self-sacrificing Harry Potter, this is literally me at my darkest moments at 2am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-01 06:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20253586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novatony/pseuds/novatony
Summary: The weight of survivor's guilt was heavy upon Harry's shoulder as he stood in the Great Hall, piles upon piles of body everywhere, but his eyes remained on the Weasleys. He was the Master of Death. He will bring them back, all of them. No matter the cost.





	you are human

**Author's Note:**

> it's sad boi hours baby so you know what that meanssss

It was over. The war was over and they won, but they didn't warn him how much they'd lose.

Harry's gaunt and tired body stood in a dark corner in the Great Hall where all the dead bodies were gathered. The weight of survivor's guilt heavy upon his shoulders, his emotionless eyes trained on the Weasleys. He felt the thin thread of friendship he had with Ron and Hermione be severed when Fred died, and he didn't care. He was supposed to die _goddammit why couldn't he die_?! He clenched his fists and bit his lip, holding in his sob because he wasn't allowed to cry. He had no right to cry after all he put these people through. 

"You care too much." There was that voice again. The voice of the being that Harry can see but no one else can. He turned his head to look at the dark mass beside him, towering over six feet tall and pitch black mist. It was like the fairy tales of the Grim Reaper; black cloak, hood covering its face, sharp and lethal scythe in one skeletal hand. It's been popping up here and then since he first found the Mirror of Erised, but only began following him around when he succumbed and first brought a razor to his wrist when he was on the run. The way Ron and Hermione started to distance themselves from him made it clear that he wasn't wanted anymore. Everywhere he went, destruction was left in his wake. They nearly died numerous times because they were friends with him, so it was only understandable they wanted to cut ties. 

"Is that a bad thing?" He had no right to go over and mourn with them. He didn't want to. Out of all the Weasleys, only Charlie, Bill, Percy, Arthur, and the twins treated him like a teenager; a child forced to grow up too quickly. Clearly, one was gone. His heart ached because he grew close to the twins. He truly felt himself start to fall for them in the midst of a raging war, but it was too late. _He was too late_. His eyes roamed across the room and his gaze caught Malfoy's. His eyes held grief, but also relief and happiness. He nodded a thanks at Harry, causing his parents to see where he was looking. They, too, gave a nod of thanks, albeit a little stiffly. It was like Harry barely recognized them. His empty eyes just stared at them and then looked back to the Weasleys.

"Depends. What's on your mind, master?" There it was. That damned title. That damned name. He swallowed heavily as he thought about it. Well, he couldn't. His mind was blank. It was like he was an empty shell, no sign of life in it. He thought back to all of the people he's lost. Sirius, Remus, James, Lily, Hedwig, Dobby, Severus, Cedric, Fred. The list went on and on and he didn't know when it stops. He could feel his arm itch. He started to subconsciously scratch it, not realizing his torn sleeves revealed enough for those looking closely the raw and fresh lines as he scratched and reopened them. He didn't see or feel the Malfoys' horrified stares on his torn and shredded arms as they bled, but he saw and felt Death's. 

"The dead. Is there a way to bring them back?" He always wondered that question, more so after he found out he was the Master of Death. 

Death was silent for a moment. "Everything comes with a sacrifice." Harry scoffed.

"Is half my soul and dying numerous times not enough? I'll sell the rest of my sanity too," he said numbly. He glanced at Death and saw the glint of red eyes through the dark shadows of its hood. 

"It will take time to bring them all back. It's limited. Who first?" Harry didn't even have to think.

"Fred." It nodded and raised its black scythe, bringing it to Harry's chest. A soft black glow emitted from the point before he felt a stinging pain in his chest. "A piece of your soul has been taken to bring Frederick Richard Weasley back." His eyes glanced over to the family of redheads and he felt his breathing stop as the unmistakable rise and fall of Fred's chest began. He saw more than heard George's cries as he collapsed onto Fred and waited as he woke up. 

"How many do I get?" Harry's voice was rough and lost.

"You'll know when you are on your death bed," was all Death responded. 

Harry stayed within the shadows as he left the Great Hall, Death following close behind along with the gazes of the Malfoys. The blood steadily dripped down his arm, his head, his face, and the multiple deep cuts across his stomach. The dull throb on his back tells him the lashes have been opened up as well. He slipped away into the night, using the last of his energy to apparate himself back to Grimmauld Place. He collapsed on his hands and knees once he landed. Death, unable to help him as it stood to the side, could only watch the beginning of its master as Harry started to tear himself apart. Harry screamed. He screamed and screamed until his voice was gone and his throat felt raw. He trashed the place; he let his magic go wild and explode glass and everything in its wake. He cried and cried as endless streams of tears fell down his face. 

Death watched sadly as its master fell apart in front of them, and they could do nothing. Harry fell to his hands and knees as he gasped out another name. 

"Severus. S-Severus Snape," he cried out as he clawed at his arms. Death could only obey as it pointed its scythe at Harry's chest and took another piece of Harry's soul away, murmuring the official words. "I would recommend waiting a day or two before the next," its deep voice echoed through the empty house, as soft as it could go. Death may be Death, but that doesn't mean it didn't have feelings. Harry sobbed as he forced himself to one of the bedrooms. The pain that wracked his body as he climbed the stairs didn't compare to the pain he felt in his heart at all the deaths he caused. He sat down heavily on the bed he resided in while there and picked up the blade on his nightstand, not hesitating before dragging one, two, three, ten lines across his arm. He watched as the crimson stream rolled down in different paths and dripped onto the floor. He was vaguely aware of Death entering the room effortlessly, gliding in like skating on ice.

“Master, you should rest.” Harry didn’t miss the subtle demand under the request. He sighed softly and grabbed the roll of medical bandage out of the drawer, winding it around his arm gingerly. He watched with fascination as the redness seeped through. ‘_Guess I went too far today_,’ he bitterly thought. He wasn't going to heal them; Harry was numb to pain at this point. He just needed a compensation for all the people he killed. Each line for each death; dark or light. He has to have over hundreds at this point.

Getting up to change, he realized he was too drained and tired to go through the process of a shower so he casted a quick Scourgify on himself and slipped on a big white t-shirt that was three sizes too big on his small frame and a new pair of boxers, not bothering with pants. It’ll just irritate the cuts on his thighs during the night and he’ll take them off anyways. He shuffled back to the bed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. The brunette lifted his gaze to Death who stood in the dark corner of the room and stared at it though half-lidded eyes.

“What will happen to the ones that I bring back?” His voice was small and tired.

“They will see you in the Middle, before they come back. They will see a part of your soul being absorbed by them, a bright light, and then they’re here.” Death’s voice was low and sounded loud in the quiet room.

"Will they remember it?"

"Every bit." Harry nodded in acceptance and let himself drift off.

_‘One day I’ll sleep and never wake up. That will be the day I bring them all back.'_


End file.
